(This story is based on a true barefooter girl, most of the facts are true, a few other are fictitious)



LOVE

by DG
dg_2001x@yahoo.com






Pain was her friend.
She liked it.
She needed it.

Pain was an illusion, an intense, almost unreal sensation that made her feel alive, unique, exhilarating...free! Nobody, or almost nobody knew that this was the true, the most intense reason behind her barefooting. 9 out of 10 times she was barefoot. Everywhere. Anywhere. She was young and beautiful, and she knew it. She was special, unique, but many people didn't understand it and called her a "freak", feeling so comfortable under the blankets of their so-called "normality", when the truth was that they feared their uniqueness, they envied it, they regretted not having the guts to be like her, thus wanting to bring her to their herd of mediocrity.

She loved being barefoot. She loved her feet. Her perfect, beautifully shaped feet. Her tough soles looked and felt like leather, as that guy who felt them some time ago, while she was sitting on a bench out of a store had told her. He was amazed to see this beautiful girl walking effortlessly on the sharp gravel of the parking lot that had gracefully sat on a bench to dust her soles. He made out his mind and dared to approach to this faerie-like vision and, with a humble voice, dared to ask her to touch her soles, as if they were a sacred thing... as they were indeed, the feet of a goddess.

She kept working, bending the wire, and then her memories jumped back to the bet. The bet! She smiled, remembering how she won those fifty bucks in front of her astonished friend. "I can't believe it, I can't believe it! How can you do it?" she said. "no you won't, no you won't!" she almost screamed. Amber just listened to her and said no word. She had oiled the soles of her feet and now she was roasting them with the hairdryer, set to the highest temperature. Her friend knew her soles were tough and that Amber was able of anything, or almost anything....but she knew too how much she loved her almost always bare feet, so, half joke, half seriously, she had dared her to roast her soles.

Amber simply said "OK". They both went to her bedroom, as in a dream. Her friend couldn't believe it when she started smearing some baby oil on her soles, after dusting them. Then she plugged the hairdryer, switched it on and gave it to her friend... "wanna do it yourself?" she said... Her friend said "no way!" so Amber started doing it, calmly, without uttering a single word. Hot...hot...hot...pain...pain...pain!!! Her soles started to burn as if they were on fire. They got a bright red color, literally being fried out. But she kept punishing them...they deserved it...because they were too much beautiful!!! It was an unreal thing. Ice cream, chocolate, music... it was a rush of pleasant thoughts what came to her mind. That was the way she controlled pain, she tamed it, she made it her friend... she had learned to take pleasure out of pain, not only enduring it, but actually enjoying it. And her feet, her soles, were the gates to this pleasure... the more the pain they suffered, the more the pleasure she got. Her friend was mesmerized, not knowing what to do, what to say, just watching silently as Amber, half in trance, kept roasting her soles to the point that some blisters appeared in them. Five, ten, fifteen minutes and the ordeal continued, this self inflicted torture. Amber showed no signs of stopping. Her face revealed the intense suffering, the tremendous pain her soles were enduring... but the friend could also read a hint of pleasure in her eyes, in the way her body moved, in how Amber's chest rhythmically moved.

"Enough, stop!" she cried out as she took the hairdryer, that beauty instrument that had become a torture one, out of the hands of Amber. "You're crazy!" she said as she took a close look at her friend's soles, red as cherries. "Are you OK?" "No, I am not" Amber repied. "I guess I won't be able to walk for some hours, but I'll be OK" The friend started to sob... "sorry, sorry, I'm so sorry, forgive me!" "There's nothing to forgive, I'll be OK, don't worry... and I won!!! Give me those fifty bucks!" she said with a smile.

The shapes were fine, she was done. She admired her work. Not only drawings and poetry, but handcraft was now one of her multiple skills! The letters looked neat, so innocent. She smiled and thought of him, her beloved boyfriend. What would he think? Would he be astonished, pleased? Who knew? But it was not only for him, but for her that she would do it. The proof of true love. The pleasure. She was afraid, but excited too. Her heartbeat was fast, and so her breath. She anticipated what was coming. How it would be? How it would feel? How long it would last, once done? She wanted to be like a pet, to be owned. With the pliers, she took the first letter and put it on the flame of the stove. She held it steadily in the flame, watching how it changed color, from silver to black, then to brown, to white and almost white... The time had come. Carefully, she put the red hot bent paperclip on the tile floor. Nobody at home, that made it easier. She was careful enough as to put the letter in a mirror-like way. Then, determined, she put the ball of her right foot and pressed directly on the hot metal... her tough, pliable thick skin sizzled as the wire burnt it. She put her full weight on it for some seconds, that felt like an eternity. Chocolate, icecream, music... Him!!! Pleasant thoughts hovered in her mind as the pain tormented her sole, sending waves of pain through her spine. She had done it!!!

Second letter. Second initial. Back to the stove again. She knew what to wait for this time. Her right sole still pulsed in pain, but she knew how to turn that pain into pleasure. Red hot metal again, the turn of the left foot had arrived. Pain again, intense pain coming out of this self-inflicted torture, turning into deep waves of pleasure. "I love you, I love you, I LOVE YOU CHAD!!!" she said, now in loud voice, screaming in pain and pleasure as her body trembled, as the metal branded a letter on her innocent, defenseless sole.

It was over... she went to bed, her tormented feet hanging out of the edge. Covered in sweat, exhausted, she felt asleep. Pain and pleasure mixed in her mind, in her dreams, as she dreamed of her beloved. She was her pet now, she was branded.